The Dark Flower eBook

Now, why had the fellow said that? Curious how
this desperate secret feeling of his own made him
see sinister meaning in this servant, in Oliver’s
visit of last night—­in everything.
It was vile—­this suspiciousness!
He could feel, almost see, himself deteriorating
already, with this furtive feeling in his soul.
It would soon be written on his face! But what
was the use of troubling? What would come, would—­one
way or the other.

And suddenly he remembered with a shock that it was
the first of November—­Sylvia’s birthday!
He had never before forgotten it. In the disturbance
of that discovery he was very near to going and pouring
out to her the whole story of his feelings. A
charming birthday present, that would make!
Taking his hat, instead, he dashed round to the nearest
flower shop. A Frenchwoman kept it.

Next door was a jeweller’s. He had never
really known if Sylvia cared for jewels, since one
day he happened to remark that they were vulgar.
And feeling that he had fallen low indeed, to be
trying to atone with some miserable gewgaw for never
having thought of her all day, because he had been
thinking of another, he went in and bought the only
ornament whose ingredients did not make his gorge
rise, two small pear-shaped black pearls, one at each
end of a fine platinum chain. Coming out with
it, he noticed over the street, in a clear sky fast
deepening to indigo, the thinnest slip of a new moon,
like a bright swallow, with wings bent back, flying
towards the ground. That meant—­fine
weather! If it could only be fine weather in
his heart! And in order that the azalea might
arrive first, he walked up and down the Square which
he and Oliver had patrolled the night before.

When he went in, Sylvia was just placing the white
azalea in the window of the drawing-room; and stealing
up behind her he clasped the little necklet round
her throat. She turned round and clung to him.
He could feel that she was greatly moved. And
remorse stirred and stirred in him that he was betraying
her with his kiss.

But, even while he kissed her, he was hardening his
heart.

XI

Next day, still following the lead of her words about
fresh air and his tired look, he told her that he
was going to ride, and did not say with whom.
After applauding his resolution, she was silent for
a little—­then asked:

“Why don’t you ride with Nell?”

He had already so lost his dignity, that he hardly
felt disgraced in answering:

“It might bore her!”

“Oh, no; it wouldn’t bore her.”

Had she meant anything by that? And feeling
as if he were fencing with his own soul, he said: